The Family Compound

A recurring theme during the wedding festivities was that of The Family Compound. I've had a low-simmering fantasy for a while, of collecting all our separate family units (my sister, my brother, my parents, my Dear Husband's sister and parents, with invitations out to all aunts/uncles/cousins/extended family) and close friends on a big piece of land somewhere. We'd each have separate houses, with one big central meeting house. You know, like the Kennedy compound. We could hang out all together in the big central house, or be alone in our separate houses, as mood dictates. And everyone would have a specific job--I'd cook, my sister would homeschool the children, our mothers would sew and garden, John's brother-in-law would be the brewmaster, my dad would be in charge of hunting and fishing, and so on. We'd grow lots of vegetables and raise chickens and goats and ducks and things and make our own cheese and sit on the giant deck every night drinking good wine and watching the kids play.

Surprisingly, it only took one mention of The Family Compound for everyone to get on board with it. Now everyone wants to be a part of the compound. Even my dad, though his comment was, "As long as there are no hippies." In fact my sister and I started discussing possible places to locate this thing. I'm gunning for Costa Rica, but Utah/New Mexico, Washington State, Tennessee, and central Virginia also made strong showings. The compound can't be anywhere too cold, must have high-speed internet and be within reasonable distance of a major metropolitan area (major enough to get good wine and medical treatment, anyway), must be pretty, and must be somewhere where land prices aren't too high. Ideally I'd like access to fresh seafood, too. The real stumbling block is of course the money. Maybe if we all start saving right now, we could afford to buy the land and part of one house in twenty years, but that negates the part about raising children there.

Guess I'll have to start playing the lottery.